Dinner, Yeah?
by Kraft
Summary: Sometimes the best laid of plans with the greatest of intentions go astray. And not everything plays as Naomi expects it to.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own Skins.

**A/N:** Just a little something I found on my computer. The setting takes place between season three and season four. Enjoy!

Globs of red, sticky goo oozed from the ceiling. Long, thick, dripping tendrils slowly trailed down from the roof; sliding against the once pristine Navaho white walls and dropping from overhead with a wet _glap-splat_ sound. The goop then pooled on the cream colored tilled floor slowly, staining it with the look of a wet, congealed pile of soaked blood red satin. It even steamed slightly like hot custard, curls of whitish gray swirling in the air around the pools.

The faded yellow curtains in the window above the sink, which fluttered in the evening breeze, had a few, gapping, charred holes in them. Each hole was slightly crescent shaped, about the size of a sausage, with moonlight streaming through them. Just around the edges of the newly decorated designs on the curtains, was a smooth black rim, outlining the recently acquired pattern amongst the yellow fabric.

Pasty white strings hung on every kitchen appliance on the counter tops. The limp noodles clung and shaped themselves to the cooking utensils they had landed upon, bending easily against the sharp edges and smooth curves. A few, even gently swayed as they hung from the windowsill.

Off to my left came a hiss from the stove, on which was perched a few pots and a frying pan, as some of the goo dripped into the open flame of the burner, sizzling as the yellow-red flames jumped higher into life. The stovetop itself appeared to have had a hand grenade thrown at it, splatters of sauce and pasta painting the walls around it. Meanwhile, smoke emanated from one corner of the kitchen, wafting the sent of something burning into the air, from the sleek black oven behind me.

As the grayish black fumes permeated the air, it floated around until it hovered densely –thickly- in the exact middle between the floor and ceiling. It hung there, slowly collecting into a noxious cloud, putting the kitchen in some sense the scene of midnight fog encroaching upon a swamp.

In short, the kitchen was less than it's normal splendor.

And that is where I stood, in the middle of my mother's once proud kitchen, betwixt the remnants of what was supposed to be dinner. I can't for sure say that I had a thought going through my head at that moment, except perhaps for _'Oh Fuck.'_

See, I was rooted to the spot, feeling the warm spaghetti sauce soaking into the peroxide blonde locks of my hair. My blue eyes were as round as saucers with shear horror. And my clothing was drenched in a combination of sauce, noodles, and I even think there was a bit of sausage resting on my left shoulder as if it were a parrot.

But the demolished kitchen, my state of dress, or my newly acquired pet sausage wasn't my main problem at the moment. My problem, stood, astonished, in a mixture of awe, horror, and wonder, in the form of one gorgeous, red haired, brown-eyed Emily Fitch.

* * *

The day had dawned all sunny and warm as I stirred beneath the sheets of my bed, sighing in utter contentment as I felt my own personal space heater's arms wrapped around my waist. Smiling down at the beautiful redhead in my arms, I still couldn't believe that she was mine. My girlfriend, my lover, my Emily who had put up with my bighead-ness for so long, until I found the courage within myself to love her without fear.

Gazing at her, I lifted one of my hands up to gently stroke the silky strands of her hair. Letting my hand slip away from her hair, my index finger trailed down to ghostly trace the contours of her sleeping face. She shifted slightly under my touch, burrowing her head further into the crook of my neck. I could feel the warm traces of her breath fanning out against my bare shoulder.

Again I smiled, thinking about the oddity and variety of reasons with which had brought Emily and I closer together. Through all the running from her I had done, the love ball, all the way to last night when we officially came out to our parents, I couldn't believe that we had survived it all. Even though not all of it had been easy, it was worth it in the end because of her.

Then again, wasn't that what love was?

Of course, I almost ran for the hills the day Emily suggested that we come out to our families. We had been at our spot, the lake, relaxing upon a blanket; simply reveling in the closeness of our bodies and the tenderly, sweet kisses we shared. It had been warm that day, with the sun shining through the green foliage, casting a comforting dark green shadow over were we lay. This is when she mentioned, "stepping out of our rather selective 'closet.'" With that the tranquility had ended and the prickling claws of fear had begun.

It wasn't that I was worried about my mother, but more so Emily's. The woman didn't much care for the fact that I was around her daughter, and therefore I believed wanted to very much kill me. But surprisingly, with Katie's help, she hadn't yet. That was, until Mrs. Fitch found out I was her daughter's girlfriend, her ticking time bomb had gone off.

Oh what an explosion it was! Mother Fitch's face had first gone deathly pale in rage, her lips pierced together in a thin almost nonexistent line, before she lunged across the dinning table at me. A dish of peas crashed to the floor, scattering shards of porcelain across the hard wood floor as her body flew above the oak table. Silver forks, spoons, and knives (thank god the knives!) clattered to the ground and across the table. Glasses full of water spilled their clear contents, soaking through the tablecloth.

She was almost upon me; her finely manicured nails turned inward like miniature daggers, a feral gleam dancing about her hate filled eyes. A vein in her forehead pulsed blue against her now red skin, as the muscles in her neck leaped out straining to break free from her flesh. And some high-pitched, ear splitting, almost inhuman scream pierced the air, slicing through my eardrums, as it appeared to be resonating from Jenna Fitch's mouth.

It was as if, I was watching this from outside of my body. I sat frozen in the hard wooden chair, my hands clenched tightly to its sides, palms aching as the corners dug into my palm. My eyes were wide open in horror, but then everything went black. And the next thing I knew, I was flat on my back, on the floor with Emily sprawled over the top of my body shouting curses at her mother.

Katie was at Emily's side, helping her shield me from their mother. Their father had Jenna's arms behind her back, as her body writhed, tugged, and pulled at his restraints to get to me. The only thing missing from this scene, my shocked brain supplied, was Emily's mother frothing at the mouth. As for James, he still sat at the table, mouth slightly agape watching everything take place with rapt attention.

"Wait till Gordon McPherson hears about this!" he had shouted before rocketing out of his seat, through the front door, and no doubt to his sick, twisted, little friend.

Fortunately, Katie had proved not to be such a tosser and defended Emily and I against their mother. Yes, Mrs. Fitch had been outnumbered that night being the only one with the problem of Emily being gay and dating me. Well, Mr. Fitch- I mean Rob- did pull me aside and rather sweetly assured me that if I broke his little girl's heart, he would personally see to it that I paid dearly for my sin.

As for my mother, she took the news quite well. Too well, to my horror.

Emily and I sat at the round dinning table in my mother's kitchen, both of us cradling still warm mugs of tea in our hands. The room was silent, so quiet to where I could hear the muffled creaking and shuffling coming from my mother's room above us. This wasn't the normal silence I was used to with Emily, I was more accustomed to our warm, comfortable silences. Not this tension filled, fearful one. I could practically hear my stomach twist into knots with all the nerves I was feeling.

My eyes flickered over to Emily's rigid figure to see how she was holding up. All the color from her facial features was drained, anxiety written across her pale face. Her hands gripped the porcelain mug before her in a death lock. I imagined the container in her hands was slowly having the life throttled out of it, as Emily's hands clenched the cup impossibly tighter. Her chocolate brown eyes would occasionally dart around nervously, as her white teeth bit into the light red flesh of her bottom lip.

"Alright Em?" I asked, hoping to sooth her frazzled nerves.

Emily's head snapped up, with a small popping noise, from were she had been staring mournfully into the now cold, green tinted liquid of her drink. She looked at me eyes full of pure fear glistening in their endless brown depths. A frown creased her perfect pink lips, while her brow was furrowed causing the bridge of her nose to crinkle slightly.

Emily was scared, dead scared.

"What if she hates you for this, for us?" She whispered, her voice trembling. "Disowns you? Won't let me see you?" Her bottom lip quivered and her eyes began to shine with unshed tears. "Naomi, I can't put myself between you and your mom. She's the only family you have, I don't want to be the reason-"

"Emily, it's going to be okay," I said, cutting her short in fear that she might have a panic attack. Quickly, I scooted my chair closer to hers, pulling her into my lap. Our foreheads met, pressing together as her arms wrapped themselves around my neck, mine taking residence around her waist, anchoring her securely to me.

"My mother loves you," I comforted, looking right into her troubled orbs. "Says you're the best influence on me ever. Besides she keeps telling me your welcome here anytime. Actually, I'm surprised she hasn't asked you to move in."

"Really," she questioned. I took notice to small tear droplets leaving the corner of her eyes.

"Really," I replied, as I wiped away the drops with the pad of my thumb.

Emily leaned forward her lips capturing mine in a soft, sweet kiss. It didn't stay sweet for too long though, as she shifted in my lap, pressing our bodies closer together. Her tongue brushed along my bottom lip, asking for entrance, before I completely forgot where I was. I just remember her hands in my hair, mine snaking up the back of her shirt, nails digging into her back as her lips trailed down to kiss and nip at a sensitive spot on my neck causing me to gasp; before I heard the clearing of a throat.

"Mom!" I cried out, my eyes having flown open at hearing the noise. "This is- It's um- fuck it. This is Emily, my girlfriend." I managed to say, tipping my head downward to gesture at a now fiercely blushing Emily.

"About time you introduced her properly Naomi, honestly." My mother said, a smile spreading across her face as she took a seat at the table. "Good to see you again, Emily dear."

Emily and I just sat there, starring at my mom as if she had grown three extra heads.

"Well, don't look so shocked you two," she said, sounding extremely amused. "I figured this was what you had in mind to talk to me about, yeah?"

"How did you…" I chocked out, trailing off in wonderment.

"Don't flatter yourself dear, you're about as subtle as you are social." She stated. "Besides, you two make an awful racket when you say your studying." Another smile. "And I'm thrilled for you and Emily, have been since the day I saw the look of pure love and adoration you guys shared when Emily first came around."

"Thank you," Emily whispered.

"No need to thank me dear," my mom assured with another kind smile directed towards Emily. "You make my daughter happy, and God knows I haven't seen this much life in her for a long time. I can see the two of you complete each other. So, thank you."

We sat there for a few minutes in silence before I spoke, "Thanks mom."

After that, I had decide to do something utterly romantic for Emily, something special for her; something that I should have done a long time ago. Despite how mushy some people I know would think it was, I wanted to give Emily a real first date. Not one of those, take her to a club and get completely fucking smashed dates. I wanted to give her a date where it was just the two of us together, minus all those sweaty bodies bumping into us as we danced. And perhaps, my downfall in this matter was the desire to make it go absolutely perfect.

Emily's warm breath fanned out against my shoulder, tickling the sensitive skin at the crook of my neck, this morning. She lay relaxed, her left arm thrown over my waist, the tips of her fingers grazing the small of my lower back; while her other hand was between us, the pads of her fingers resting above my beating heart with the palm fitted against the swell of my breast. I felt the comfortable weight of her slender legs tangled with mine, the curve of her toned calf brushing against my own. The fit of her body against mine was like a puzzle piece- perfect.

It was there among the twisted bed sheets covering our naked bodies, which the idea of being a hopeless romantic was born. As sappy, and no doubt sickeningly sweet, as it would be, I wanted to be the most romantic girlfriend ever for the sleeping, beautiful creature beside me. I wanted to show Emily how much I loved her, how much I was in love with her by another means than passionate kisses and tender caresses.

First, all I had to do was see to it that Emily was occupied for the day. A task easier said than done. Since, after last night's minor debacle with her mother almost killing me, it had silently been agreed upon that Emily should spend a few days at my home, while her mother had a chance to cool down. Therefore, I didn't know how to get her out of the house for a few hours. In the end though, I settled for asking my mother to take her for a girl's day out. Even though the prospect of them spending a large amount of time together frightened me, they got along awfully well already.

A few hours later, after the gray, pinkish light of dawn gave way to blue sky and a golden sun; I stood waving goodbye to my mother and my beloved Emily as they disappeared in the distancing car. Birds whistled their chipper calls, leaving a merry tune to hang in the already warm morning air. It was the perfect day, for the perfect evening I was planning. With a smile gracing my lips and a giddy heart I entered the house to prepare, the thought that absolutely nothing could go wrong crossing my mind.

* * *

So, there I was, in the kitchen gapping about me like a fish out of water and Emily looking at me biting back her rising amusement. I tried to form words, but my mouth and brain had left me. All that came out was air, before my mind backfired with a genius comment.

"I-uh- made dinner," I said, goofy smile plastering itself on my face.

Emily starred hard at me for several seconds, before bursting out in laughter. Her slender frame shook with fits of giggles causing her to clutch at her stomach and bend over with her red hair falling in front of her already reddening face. The bright amber strands wiggled as she fell to the floor, tears springing to her eyes as her laughter rocked her body.

And I could feel my face burn with embarrassment.

"It's not funny!" I shouted, stomping my right foot down into a puddle of sauce, making droplets of the cold goo fly upwards. This only made Emily laugh even harder, if that was even physically possible for her.

Seething, I glared at her as she continued to laugh. Several minutes later and she was gasping for air, wiping away the tears streaming from the corner of her eyes. A few hiccups generated themselves from her as her breathing settled and she turned her radiantly smiling face towards me. I wanted to be angry with her, but I felt my resolve fading at the shine of utter love and happiness in her eyes.

"Oh Nai," Emily murmured, moving closer to me.

"I wanted to make you dinner, yeah?" I pouted, averting my eyes to take in the destroyed kitchen. "But things didn't go exactly to plan."

_Exactly to plan, _my mind echoed. Yeah, it was more along the lines of an explosive time, really.

"I-uh," Emily followed my gaze causing another giggle to be elected from her lips. "Can see that. What happened?"

A frustrated sigh escaped me, as I ran my hand through my sauced hair, which was starting to stiffen.

"The stove attacked me!" I growled.

"The stove attacked you?" she asked, eyebrow quirking.

"Yes!"

"And what may I ask, provoked it," she paused, grinning as she took in the sight of the kitchen again. "Into such a ferocious attack?"

Glancing back at the fiasco that was still supporting the life support system of a small flame, I cringed. "I think some oil got into the heating element, which conveniently went out," I sighed. "The bread had caught on fire in the oven; I put it out just in time to check on the sauce when I noticed the unlit burner. So- I- uh lighted it again…"

"Oh Noams," Emily murmured, shaking her head slightly in an amused fashion. "That explains why your eyebrow's been singed off."

"No kidding! The fucking thing just exploded on me!" I groaned, not taking her statement fully in. Then it clicked. My eyebrow… Reaching upward, my hand brushed across my forehead, passing along one brow, yet coming up empty on the spot that should have harbored my right one. "Oh fucking hell!" I yelled.

Emily laughs again, stepping forward and taking my hand in hers. She placed a gentle kiss on my palm, causing me to sigh in defeat. "Its okay, Naomi." She said softly, dropping my hand to wrap her arms around my waist.

"No, Ems, its not." I sighed again. "I wanted to do something special for you. Something to show you how much I love you. And considering I never took you out on a proper date, I thought I could start making up for that by putting together a romantic dinner."

Her eyes glittered with affection as she listened to me, a loving smile morphing onto her pink lips. "I love you," she whispered. "And this is the most thoughtful and wonderful thing anyone's done for me!"

"But I ruined it!" I cried, looking at the redhead in my arms as if she was crazy.

"It's the thought that counts," she giggled, before her voice turned husky. "Besides you have a little something…" she trailed off as she leaned forward, her tongue peeking out to lick some sauce that had landed near the corner of my lips and then she was kissing me hard.

Several moments passed as our lips melded together and our tongues meant familiar terrain before we parted, breathing a little harder. "My complements to the chef," Emily grinned wickedly.

"Oh your very welcome," I grinned back.

She slipped from my arms, stepping back, her eyes hungrily taking in my sauce and noodle spattered form. "Now, how's about I get you cleaned up?" She asked. "Then we can go an have that romantic dinner date you were speaking of?"

Sauntering up to her, I smirked, "Depends, can I have desert first before we go?"

"I think that can be arranged," she replied, taking my hand and leading me towards the bathroom.

I grinned. Maybe I would be able to salvage this evening after all and give Emily a romantic evening she wouldn't be able to forget.


End file.
